


Kiss Number Five: Thiryak

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [5]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: A cat appears, Bond breaks into flats, Developing Relationship, Frustration, Kissing, Life and Such In MI6, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5. Thiryak – Supporting the right side of her head with his left hand, he kisses her lips while his right hand caresses her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number Five: Thiryak

The skies were dark above Q as he walked from his car to the front door of his building, threatening rain or more insidious things. He imagined Bahamut tearing down from the boiling clouds, spitting flame and death upon London, and grinned. He’d have to pop in his DVD of ‘Advent Children’ again tonight, or he’d never sleep for the dreams. He took another look at the sky just before the first huge drops of rain started to hit his glasses, then ducked into the doorway to escape the deluge. He jogged up the stairs and just barely missed one of his neighbours as they careened around the corner of his floor in hot pursuit of a small dog. He thought about offering his assistance, but his tired eyes and aching back voted against the madcap chase through the halls. He struggled with his door for a moment, but got it open, took one step in, toed his shoes off, looked up - and halted in shock.

Bond sat on his couch, dressed in jeans and a blue tee-shirt, petting his cat and watching ‘Adventure Time’ on his flatscreen television, eating a giant bag of crisps and dill dip.

Q’s head fell to one side, and the only thing he could think of to say was, “Don’t get crumbs on the floor, Bond.”

Bond didn’t even look away from the television, but he nodded solemnly. Montgomery looked at Q and mreowed at him, then stretched himself over Bond’s lap. Q shut the door behind him and wandered into the kitchen to pour himself a really strong drink. Really. Strong. Hell, he’d just forgo the damned glass and mixer and drink right from the bottle. He reached into his freezer and pulled out the bottle of vodka and carried it into the sitting room and plopped down next to the agent. Bond sighed deeply and scratched Montgomery between the shoulderblades. The cat’s purring lulled Q into a trance as he stared at the bright colours and idiocy displaying itself in full 1080p high-definition. He didn’t even want to think anymore at all, hang it all up, he was  _done_. He sank further into the sofa cushions and groaned with his entire being, then took a healthy swig from the bottle of vodka.

“Alright, then?” Bond muttered.

“Ah, yes. Fucking idiots, the lot of them. Why didn’t I just hire all new from the intern pool?” Q grumbled into the bottle.

Bond nodded. “I think I’m going to kill 0011.”

“Did he do it again?”

“Yee-up.” The agent sighed again. “And this time, he did it right in front of me.”

“Arsehole.” Q set the vodka down and reached for the crisps. His hand didn’t get very far, though, because Bond grabbed a hold of him by the wrist and pulled him sideways until he toppled onto the cat and the bag. Both went to the floor; miraculously, Q did not. The crisps even stayed in the bag, and Montgomery stuck his head into the crinkly thing to check out the food options.

Bond laughed as Q struggled - well, more like wiggled - against his hip. Q tried to sputter indignantly, but it came out as a giggle, and then all was lost as his exhaustion caught up to him all of a sudden and turned him into a puddle of giggles on top of the agent. Bond’s large hands smoothed up his sides and stroked his back, and he pressed a kiss to Q’s forehead. “Better now?”

Q hummed happily once he caught his breath. The cat continued eating crisps. Bond’s hand continued exploring, his left hand moving up to cup Q’s face and tilting his head until Bond’s lips found their target. Q sighed into the kiss, adjusting as Bond rolled beneath him so that Q was now laying full out on top of the agent, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, half-hard prick to half-hard prick. Q wove his bare feet around Bond’s ankles, rubbing them against the white sport socks. Come to think of it - “You aren’t wearing a suit.”

Bond laughed into the kiss, even as his right hand stroked Q’s hipbone and belly. “Contrary to popular belief, I do own more than Savile Row.”

“Could have fooled me.” Q licked into Bond’s mouth, even as he pressed against the steadying hand on his face. The roving hand found its way between them, and Bond cupped his palm over Q’s erection. The warmth of his hand had Q moaning into his mouth once more, and he could feel the smirk against the sensitive skin of his lips. “Damn you, Bond.”

“You know, you can call me James, if you wish.”

Q blinked. “Bond. James Bond. License to kill.”

Bond laughed and nibbled on Q’s bottom lip, even as he hitched his hips up, pressing himself and his hand even closer to Q. Q groaned and closed his eyes.

“Damned right, I am.”


End file.
